On The Edge
by HauntedPast
Summary: Something's bothering Chris. Something big. When a friend from the future shows up, will it be enough help?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Charmed, show or characters. I do own the plot of this story. Jordan is mine, too.

review...

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**On The Edge**

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The night was cool, but uncomfortable as it wrapped around her with a sense of foreboding. The sun had gone down hours ago and a slight mist had settled over the street as she walked. No stars could be seen. It could have just been her paranoia courting her psyhcic powers, but whatever it was, she shivered.

Phoebe had woken up at home, feeling emotions that she knew weren't hers. She had driven to her sister's club, finally having the sense of mind to scry and find the source of the spike of feelings. She had eventually pieced together that the emotions picking at her belonged to a certain moody whitelighter.

She could feel the range of emotion emanating from him and it puzzled her. It was like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, which, she guessed, after what he had cryptically told them, he did. She knew something had been bothering him, but she hadn't known to what extent.

As she walked into P3, the air became stiffled by a haze of emotions, nearly knocking her off her feet. These feelings were completely unprovoked. Weren't they? She was sensing regret, frustration, helplessness and… guilt? What did he have to feel guilty about?

Walking a little unsteadily down the stairs, she looked up and immediately stopped at the bottom, surprised at what she saw.

Chris was sitting on one of the bar stools, his head resting on his folded arms. A raglay haphazardly next to him and he appeared to be sleeping. She was told otherwise when he heaved a great sigh and blew all the air out into the cacoon of his arms.

Phoebe was suddenly bombarded by those feelings of regret and frustration, with so much power behind the emotions that she stumbled. This seemed to catch Chris's attention. He straightened and regarded her stiffly.

"Phoebe? What are you doing here?" Chris asked, guarded curiosity reflected in the emerald pools.

"I was just uh…. checking on something for Piper." She said quickly, hoping it would be enough. It had completely slipped her mind that she would need a valid excuse if she was to get by without garnering suspicion from the furtive angel.

"Yeah. Right." Chris replied sarcastically, not believing her for a second. Slipping off the stool, Chris picked up the rag and threw it into the trash bin behind the counter. He walked around to the back office, Phoebe following worriedly. Chris began packing potions and weapons into a black bag. He paused in his work when he noticed Phoebe in the doorway.

"Can I help you?" He asked pointedly and, to her, a bit impatiently.

Deciding not to beat around the bush, Phoebe got right to the point. "Chris, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Why?" Came the automatic response.

Phoebe sighed, obviously worried, but getting annoyed with Chris's secrecy. "Chirs, I need you to be honest with me for once. Soemthing is bothering you."

"Really?" Chris replied sarcastically. He snorted and turned back to the bag he was packing, and did a double take before pulling out a glowing blue potion and stuffing it in his pants pocket.

"Chris, your emotions are going crazy. That's what dragged me here!" That hadn't been the right thing to say.

Chris turned back to her, his eyes ablaze. "You had no right to tap into my feelings!"

"That's what I'm saying, Chris, I didn't have to. You're a neon billboard! What's going on!" Phoebe cried, obviously at the end of her rope with Chris's lies.

Chris turned away again, zipping his bag forcefully before pulling it over his shoulder and exiting the back office briskly.

"Chris!" Phoebe called after him, her face contorted in anguish. He didn't stop. "Chris, please!"

In a moment of weakness, Chris stopped, but didn't turn around. He had heard the real anguish in her voice and he wanted to kick himself for causing it.

"What do you want me to say, Phoebe? Of course my emotions are blazing! I'm trying to prevent the world from going to hell and you and your sisters are fighting me all the way! I'm bound to be a little frustrated!" Chris exploded, turning furiously on Phoebe, who was shocked at the amount of frustration coming from the whitelighter, but most from the sorrow flooding his eyes. "You guys don't trust me."

"Chris, I-" Phoebe began, holding her hands up in a shrugging gesture.

"Just don't." Chris held his hand up, squeezing his eyes shut, a frown marring his handsome features. "Look, I have to go." He said shortly, huffing his bag onto his shoulder once again and orbing out, leaving Phoebe staring open mouthed.

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"Piper!" Phoebe called, walking into the house a little hurriedly. It was late and she hoped that her sisters weren't asleep yet. "Piper! Paige!"

"Phoebe! Phoebe, what?" Piper came barreling down the stairs in her pajamas, Paige right behind her in her nighty and an open robe.

"Piper, I think we should give Chris another chance." Phoebe said, spitting the words out as fast as she could.

Paige and Piper deflated at the statement, Paige rolling her eyes and Piper sighing disapprovingly.

"Phoebe," Piper whined, exasperated with Phoebe's actions. "We've been over this. I don't ever want to see him again." Piper said impatiently, dismissing the subject.

"But Chris is-" Phoebe began.

"Evil. Phoebe, he let a demon into the house! How do we know that he's not the one who turned Wyatt?" Paige said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"How do we even know if Wyatt was turned at all? I mean, for all we know, Chris could have come back with the express purpose to turn Wyatt!" Piper declared, defending her twice-blessed son.

"Yeah, but see, Piper, I didn't get that vibe from him. He was-" Phoebe was cut ff yet again.

"You went to see him? Phoebe!" Paige reprimanded her older sister.

"Will you just listen!" Phoebe screamed, finally exploding. At her sister's shocked expressions, she swallowed. "Yes, I went to see him, but I don't think he's evil. What I felt from him was genuine. I think he really wants to keep Wyatt from turning evil." She took a breath and added, "And we haven't really been making it easy for him."

"How do we know we can trust him?" Paige said suspiciously. Piper glanced at Paige before turning to her other sister.

"What did you feel from him, Phoebs?" Piper asked, a genuinely curios spark in her eyes.

Phoebe sighed. "I felt... an overwhelming sense of frustration and regret from him. Piper, he feels like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders." She looked pleadingly at her sisters.

"Where is he now? I want to talk to him." Piper said, sighing. Paige nodded in agreement.

"Um…" Phoebe suddenly look alarmed.

"What?" Paige asked, becoming startled by the distressed look on her sister's face.

"I think he went demon hunting. He had a bag full of potions and weapons and he looked determined to kill something." Phoebe said anxiously.

"He'll be back." Piper said dismissively as she started to walk back up the stairs.

"Piper!" Phoebe hissed.

Paige was silently observing. She could see how worried Phoebe was and she was beginning to wonder if she should worry, too. "Piper, the demon wasn't doing anything bad- sure, it was a little unorthodox-"

"Paige! Have you and Phoebe lost your minds? It was a demon! A demon, Paige!" Piper fumed. "He let a demon in the house and he put my son in danger. I can't forgive him for that. I won't. If I ever see him in this house again, I'll kill him, no questions asked."

"Sweetie, you can't kill a whitelighter." Paige said gently.

"Piper, you don't mean that." Phoebe said with an anguished look on her face. She had a really strange feeling that their neurotic, annoying, possibly untrustworthy wightlighter needed help. And she felt strangely compelled to find him. She reached for Piper to try to calm her down and was suddenly thrown into a premonition as she touched her sister's hand.

_The cave was dark, the light of the torch providing only a flickering vigil. In the center of the cavern was a group of demons. They had surrounded something. A flash of emerald. Chris._

Phoebe sucked in a breath as she returned from her premonition. What she had seen left her uncharacteristically shaking all over.

"Phoebe what did you see?" Paige asked.

"Chris," she breathed with wide eyes. "In trouble."

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More later.

Review.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the long wait, but here it is; the second chapter of _On the Edge_. Reviews are appreciated, but only constructive ones. I will not tolerate flames.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of Charmed. Jordan and Keith are my originals, though. : )

Enjoy.

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Jordan grunted as he tossed the pen down, and stood, throwing the balled up piece of paper in the already overflowing waste basket. Wads of discarded spells and ideas littered the floor around his feet, while the flickering light above him cast a foreboding shadow around the dim room.

_This is not going well._ _We'll never get to Chris at this rate. _

The young man had been trying to figure out how to reach his friend for the better part of three days. So far he had gone threw all of Chris's notes that he'd left on the subject of time travel, brewed all the potions he could come up with, thought up all the spells he could, but no matter what his crafty mind could come up with, there was still one big problem; he didn't have enough power to create a portal.

The young witch sat heavily in the wooden chair, wincing as it creaked under his unexpected weight. He sighed and put his feet up on the table near him, careful not to disturb all the papers spread everywhere. He put his head in his hands and let out a deep shuddering breath.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He hadn't heard anyone come into the room.

"Take a break, Jordan. I'll work for a while." A deep voice resonated in the otherwise dead quiet.

Jordan glared up at the owner of the hand tiredly.

"I can't take a break, Darryl. Chris needs me. He doesn't know what's happened," Jordan said. "He needs to know."

"You can't help him if you pass out," Darryl retorted, crossing his arms over his broad chest, one eyebrow strategically raised to irk the witch before him.

"I can't help him if I can't get to him, either." Jordan replied, meeting the eyes of his friend, his own burning with determination.

"Chris wouldn't want you to work yourself into the ground." The cop said, trying a different tactic.

Chris would not be happy with his godfather if he returned to the future and his best friend was sick from running himself into the ground. Before he had left, Chris had put Darryl in charge of keeping Jordan out of trouble, something which the young witch attracted just as much as, if not more so than, Chris.

Darryl frowned as he remembered Chris's words.

'_Watch out for him Darryl, Jo can't always remember to do it for himself…'_

Perhaps Darryl should have brushed up on his cop skills, as they seemed a bit rusty, for Jordan caught on to his plan.

Jordan glared. "Darryl, not nice,"

"You know it's true," He replied with an imploring look.

"…"

"Jordan," Darryl warned.

"Yeah, yeah," Jordan said grudgingly, running a hand over his face. "I hear ya," He sighed, his shoulders drooping as he looked up at the ex-cop. "I just don't want to let him down."

Darryl put a hand on his shoulder. "The only way you could ever let him down is by not trying. No one could ever accuse you of that." Darryl finished with a compassionate smile.

"Fine. I'll take a break. But only for a little while, then it's straight back to work. Chris has to know what has happened and the only way for that to be accomplished is for me to go back and tell him." Jordan said firmly, before standing and walking to the open door.

Darryl shook his head, staring at his young friend's back, an incredulous look on his face. _Just like Chris. No wonder they're best friends._

"Watch out, Darryl, I might charm your face to stay that way."

And then Jordan was gone

_Definitely just like Chris._

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"Phoebe, we can't just drop everything and rush to help Chris! He's not our problem!" Piper said as she stalked into the kitchen, Wyatt wailing on her hip. "Oh, don't you worry, sweet baby," she cooed in a warm high voice, bouncing him a little. "Mommy's going to feed you, don't worry."

"Piper, he's an innocent!" Phoebe pleaded, following her sister into the kitchen.

"Yeah? Since when?" Paige snorted behind her, crossing her arms. "All he's done is lie to us. Why should we help him?"

"Because of my premonition, Paige!" Phoebe whirled to stare at her, quick anger rising in her eyes.

"Was he really in trouble? Big trouble?" Piper asked, having quieted Wyatt with a bottle. Her voice was soft, yet itheld an undertone of concern.

"Are six demons trouble enough?" Phoebe asked, her anger deflating as she shrugged her shoulder, pleading with her sisters to understand the situation.

Piper sighed. "Fine."

Phoebe's shoulders sagged in relief and she went forward to hug her older sister with a squeal of thanks. She swooped down on Wyatt, too, kissing his cheeks over and over again, making the boy squeal with delight.

"But," Piper said, in her all commanding tone. Phoebe stopped and straightened, looking her sister in the eye. Paige looked to the oldest sister, too, her arms still crossed. "If we can't find him, then we stop."

Phoebe deflated but agreed nonetheless.

"Alright, upstairs. Let's get started."

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Chris held his breath as the last demon went by. He pressed himself as close to the rock wall as he could without fusing with it. The sharp edges dug into his back, but he'd rather take a few scratched than risk being caught.

Peaking out cautiously, he looked around to make sure there were no more demons coming. Sighing in relief, he shouldered the bag and quickly flitted over to the next hiding spot.

Looking out from his perch behind a boulder, he saw who he'd been searching for. There were two demons, relatively human looking, standing over a table with something spread out in front of them. The female, who had long black hair falling down around her shoulders, streaked with purple, pointed to something on the table, and the man shook his head in disagreement, curly black locks bouncing at the action. His companion's expression was thunderous.

_Hell hath no wrath…_ Chris smirked at the ironic thought.

Chris frowned. He'd seen these two before somewhere. Back in the future, he'd seen them. But where and with who?

The male suddenly looked up, and Chris thought he had been caught. But he saw another demon, a behemoth really, walk through the cavern entrance. He was covered in intricate tribal markings and piercings, and looked as though he could shatter the boulder Chris was sheltered behind with a single flick of his finger.

The half-angel tensed. This was not part of the plan; there were only supposed to be two demons to deal with.

Chris patted his pocket, reassuring himself that the potion was still there. _Just in case._

He shifted to get an atheme out of his bag when a small rock loosened and tumbled down to the cavern floor, creating a small, but recognizable echo. Chris froze, his scarcely beating heart leaping into his throat.

"I know I heard something, Whittier." The woman said, pulling a dagger from her belt and moving around the table.

"I heard it, too, Lyra. Someone's here. Decon, can you sense anything?" The man asked, nodding to the new arrival.

"Yeah, good. Someone who's good." Decon said, his booming voice putting Chris on edge.

"Witch? Whitelighter? What?" Lyra asked, her voice tense.

"Can't tell, but we can find out."

No sooner had the demon spoken, when Chris felt the boulder he was behind shatter, covering him in rubble. He quickly recovered and stood, kicking the bag out of sight before the demons noticed it.

"That wasn't very nice." He smirked, hiding the atheme behind his back.

"How dare you intrude!" Whittier bellowed, an energy ball forming in his hands. Chris ducked and rolled, waving his arm at the infuriated demon, sending him flying back into the wall.

Decon threw a fireball at him and Chris redirected it towards the woman. She ducked, but it singed her shoulder, sending her sprawling. Whittier took in the sight and with a roar, charged, another energy ball in his hand. Chris spun and avoided it, also kneeing the demon in the gut in the process.

He danced away from an atheme directed at him and threw his own at the woman, giving it an extra push with his telekinesis. She went up in flames, screaming Whittier's name.

_Oh no, vengeful demon_.

Whittier bowled him over before he had a chance to react, screaming curses at him. Chris managed to throw him off, but he was grabbed from behind by Decon, with whom he struggled and kicked until he finally hit a sensitive spot near the ribs, making the behemoth release him with an enraged cry.

He was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and he quickly rolled away from the stomping foot. He spun into a kneeling position, a fireball forming in his hand. Decon gaped.

"Didn't know I could do that, did you?" Chris taunted with a cold smirk on his face. He hurled the flaming ball at the demon and watched him burn into nothing.

Chris suddenly realized that Whittier was nowhere to be found. Chris gave a surprised yell as he felt himself lifted off the ground and thrown into the nearest stone wall. He groaned as he glared up at the demon above him. _Found him. _

"You'll pay for what you've done." The demon hissed, his voice hard and sure as steel.

Chris began to think he had underestimated this group of demons as Whittier stalked towards him, tall and angry. There was a gleam in his eyes that was frighteningly unfamiliar to Chris.

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"Jordan, does the word 'rest' mean anything to you?" Darryl asked exasperatedly. He came into the room with a blonde man by his side, agitated to find Jordan hard at work again.

"Nope," Jordan said without glancing up. He was hunched over the littered table, a pen in pen hand and a few papers fanned out in the other.

The blonde man, who had a rather wild mohawk and nose ring, chuckled, "You're as bad a Chris, Jo,"

Jordan looked up at hearing the new voice. "Keith! Man, it's good to see you in one piece. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just came to give you some more potion vials. Darryl said you were low," Keith said, dropping a sack onto the table with a clink.

"Yeah, thanks. Never want to be out of these babies," Jordan said, eyeing the contents of the bag hungrily. "How'd scouting go?"

Keith frowned. "Actually, it's been quiet, and that scares me more than armies of demon assassins knocking on our door." He brushed a hand over his mohawk, looking rather uncertain. "There's nothing we can really do about it right now, but I have a bad feeling for the coming weeks."

There was silence for a moment, while Jordan took in the news.

Darryl's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Any progress?"

Jordon gave him a look as if to say, 'didn't you just tell me to stop?'

"Jordan, just because I wanted you to rest doesn't mean that I don't want to get to Chris, too." Darryl said, throwing his hands into the air in defense.

"Relax, Darryl, I'm kidding." Jordon chuckled, before sobering. "I've come up with a potion that might help, but it will require a spell, too."

"Why? I thought we didn't need spells in the past." Keith commented.

"We haven't, no, but only because we had Chris to compensate. He was pretty much our sole power source for the Big Stuff." Jordan said with a shrug. "If Chris had been making this potion- what am I talking about? If Chris were here we wouldn't _need_ to make this potion-"

"Jordan." Darryl shot him a look.

"Right, sorry. Anyway, the point is that if Chris were making this potion, we wouldn't necessarily need a power boost, but this is a complicated potion, and without an experienced witch, granted an all-powerful, half angel witch-"

"Jordan." Darryl barked, trying to hide the exasperation on his face. Jordan's jaw snapped shut. Darryl turned to Keith. "Without an experienced witch, we don't have enough power to be completely successful, so we might be able to boost it with a spell."

Keith was silent for a moment. "That's why I'm just the head of the scout team."

Jordan laughed out loud, leaning back precariously in his chair.

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Phoebe paced the attic impatiently.

Her nerves were buzzing from the premonition, more than they should have been. She just couldn't shake off the feeling that something, besides the obvious, was wrong.

She glanced around the attic at her sisters, spying Wyatt playing happily in his playpen. Paige was in the chair next to the playpen, keeping an eyes on Wyatt and also on bother her sisters.

Phoebe sighed and continued pacing. She was still sort of frustrated with Paige for not believing her whole heartedly.

At Piper's voice, the empath's eyes snapped up and her pacing came to a halt.

"Pheobe, I can't find anything in the book about this. Are you sure you know what you saw?" Piper looked up from the book with a miffed expression on her face, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Piper, I've been having premonitions for a very long time. I know how to read them. And yes, I'm sure of what I saw." Phoebe said, exasperated with her sister's constant repeating question.

"Maybe you can give a little more of a description that 'tall and evil', Phoebes." Paige said from her spot on the couch. "Book!" The book appeared in her lap in a flurry of blue orbs. Opening it, she began flipping through the pages.

"Did these demons have any marks or symbols to indicate if they were part of some group or brotherhood?" she asked.

Phoebe thought for a moment. "Nah, I don't think so. All I remember is that Chris was in a big, lit cavern, and there were six demons with him. Tall ones."

"Well _that_ should narrow things down a bit."

Phoebe rolled her eyes at her younger sister.

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Chris plopped to the cavern floor, panting heavily as he watched the flames consume the demon before him. He had barely escaped that one.

He sighed, getting to his feet quickly. He couldn't allow any time for rest if he was going to get this done. Sitting on the floor of a demon cavern was not that safe anyway.

Side stepping to the bag, he slung it over his shoulder and prepared to orb out. He stopped, though, and walked over to the spot where he'd vanquished the last demon, stooping low to snatch up the atheme that he'd dropped.

Feeling slightly more reassured with the weight of the knife in his hands, he orbed out to the manor, dissolving into small glowing, pixie-like balls of light-- only to be rebounded roughly back into the cavern.

Slightly shaken and trying to dispel the dizziness from his head, he got up quickly from his sprawled position on the ground. He frowned, swallowing uneasily as he continually moved his feet. He couldn't get out.

He tried reaching out to Leo with his mind, but all he got for his efforts was a sharp shock and a pain in his head.

Squinting through the throbbing in his head, he felt a slight shift in the air of the cavern. Someone was there.

"Come out, I know you're there," Chris said, his voice low and controlled. His handsome face was reserved, waiting for what would happen next.

A deep chuckle resounded throughout the cavern, and Chris tensed when he saw no one.

"You're good," the voice said, sounding as though it was coming from everywhere at once. "You are the son of a powerful witch."

A muscle clenched along Chris's jaw.

"A Charmed One."

The words seemed to lash out at his, chilling him to the bone. His knees threatened to buckle, but he stayed strong, a merciless glint in his eyes.

"Show yourself!" Chris demanded, his eyes hardening against this new threat. "Come out, you coward," He mocked, hoping to draw the being out into the open where he might stand a chance at defeating it.

"All in good time, little witch," the voice, definitely male, spoke in a slow way, with an almost amused tone. Not unlike that of Barbas, only with a bit more danger. "You need not see me yet. We have plenty of time to get acquainted."

"Who are you? What do you want?" Chris knew that whoever this demon was, it was stopping him from leaving. Of he could stall with questions, perhaps he could figure a way out. "Why won't you let me leave?" _Maybe if I can distract him somehow, I can get out of this cavern and orb to the manor._

"Oh, you won't get out that way. I've spelled the whole underground within half a mile of here. And what makes you so sure I'm a demon?" The voice came again, amusement overflowing in his tone.

_What? How did he know that?_ Chris paled slightly, an overwhelming feeling of dread creeping up on him.

"You've got it, I can read your mind," The voice said, a hint of malice seeping into the words. "And I know what you're thinking right now."

_If you know that, then you know that I'm going to get out of here. _Chris thought.

**Just because you think you can get out doesn't mean I'm going to let you.**

Chris suddenly gasped and fell to his knees, gripping his head as pain flared.

**I'll have what I want from you before you are ever able to escape from here.**

The cavern wassuddenly filled with a bright red light and Chris shut his eyes against the brilliance. He groaned and ducked his head as the light made his pain worsen.

The light died down soon enough and Chris chanced a glance up, sucking in a startled breath to find someone standing before him.

The man was tall, easily taller than him, with an average build and tan skin. He had an air of authority and the appearance of one who demanded instant obedience. He had dark eyes and dark tendrils of hair curled around his forehead. Everything about this man screamed evil.

Chris shuddered.

A faint light twinkled in the depths of his black eyes as he stepped forward to stand imposingly in front of Chris hunched form.

"You are right to fear me, halfbreed," he said, chuckling at the way Chris flinched at the name. "Yes, I know who you are- what you are. Your family can't save you now, Christopher," he said, tilting his head to the side.

The chain around his neck swung like a pendulum as he lowered his head to Chris's level, smirking at the barely hidden fear in his green eyes.

He leaned close to Chris's ear, lowering his voice till it was barely above a whisper.

"You are all alone."

Then all hell broke loose.

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Hah, there it is. Hope you all like it.

Review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Charmed.

This is a repost of chapter three because I got ahead of myself and forgot to edit before I submitted this chapter. Hehe, oops.

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**Chapter 3: On the Edge**

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While up in the attic with his mother and aunts, Wyatt made little cooing noises from his playpen, and Piper found herself tempted beyond all reason to fly over to her little angel-boy and smother him with kisses, anything to—

"Okay, this is ridiculous!" Paige huffed, throwing her hands up and then closing the book with a loud thump. "There's nothing," She orbed the book carefully back onto the stand with a sigh.

Piper froze, stunned at her sister's outburst as she was shaken from her motherly thoughts.

The half-witch reached out to pet her nephew, who had crawled towards her from the confines of his playpen and now stood against the side, reaching his hands out to her and smiling.

She smiled, too, and reached out to lift the toddler into her lap.

"Well, maybe we're just not looking in the right place," Phoebe offered, dropping her chin into her hand and closing her eyes.

"Maybe there's just nothing to find. Could be we've hit a dead end for a reason," The eldest charmed one said calmly, standing with her arms crossed.

The psychic sister opened her eyes immediately, shooting up to sit straight in her chair as the fury hit her.

"I can't accept that, Piper, especially when there is an innocent who could die because we didn't try hard enough to save him."

"Chris is anything but an innocent, Phoebe, and besides, we did try. There's nothing we can do." The mother's tone was final.

Phoebe glared up at Piper, before looking away, possibly to brood on her own failure to locate and save an innocent.

"Hey, guys," Paige's sudden exclamation startled the reflecting witch, causing her to look over at her sister with surprise.

That sounded like hope in the witch's voice.

"What about scrying?"

And Phoebe's head dropped again, along with her hopes.

"We already tried that, Paige, we don't have anything to go off of," Piper said, an air of irritability and impatience around her.

"Yeah, I know, nothing _here_—but what about P3? Chris stays there, doesn't he? Maybe we can find something there," the half-witch said, bouncing Wyatt on her knee and listening to him giggle with a smile.

Phoebe looked up again, stunned by her cleverness—and also peeved that the older, more experienced sisters hadn't thought of it first.

"Alright. Paige, you go check it out. We'll wait here for you," Piper said, urging her sister to go and get it done quickly.

Paige nodded, and after setting Wyatt back down in his playpen, orbed out with a smirking salute.

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No one was there to notice the blue glow coming from under the office door as the youngest Halliwell sister orbed into the dark room. Gasping as she tripped over something in the dark, she fumbled blindly for the light switch, wishing she could just call for it to turn on without the whole switch face orbing into her hand.

Finding it soon enough, light suddenly flooded the room and Paige had to raise her eyebrows in surprise. It was spotless. If she didn't know any better, she'd have to say that no one had ever stayed here before.

There was the office couch in the middle of the room, only a folded blanket and pillow sitting on the cushions. The fire extinguisher was on the wall near the bathroom doorway, and there were still photos and magazine articles on the walls like she remembered. The crates of beer that they regularly stored in here were still there in the back corner and to Paige's appreciative delight, still full.

Nothing in here seemed to be expressly belonging to Chris and only something that was truly his would work for scrying.

About to return empty handed, Paige could only sigh and drop her head a little. She really didn't want to let Phoebe down; she could tell her sister really wanted to help Chris. And the more time that passed without the presence of their snarky whitelighter, so did she.

She turned to orb out when, all of a sudden, something caught her eye. There was something peeking out from under the couch, something she would not have seen had it not been for its shiny, reflective surface.

Bending down to inspect her curious findings, Paige realized it was the corner of a photo and quickly picked it up, hoping that it was not one that had just fallen from the wall.

The powers that be must have heard her wish, because when she brought it up to the light, she saw Chris's smiling face, though slightly younger, with another boy's arms looped around his shoulders. The face of a boy she didn't recognize.

He had somewhat wavy blonde hair and his brown eyes were soft and happy. Not to mention he had the same million-dollar watt smile like someone else she knew, though she couldn't quite remember who it belonged to. There was this unrecognizable edge to the picture, despite the innocence of the whole thing, and she just couldn't figure out why the other boy seemed to be familiar.

She flipped the picture over absentmindedly, inspecting the back real quick, and did a double take when she saw writing on it, in the top left corner.

'Chris and Wyatt, May 4, 2018'

_Holy shit._

Chris really did know Wyatt. So he was telling the truth—he did know them in the future.

Completely forgetting her mental note to chew Chris out for leaving such dangerous information just lying around for anyone to pick up, she orbed off to the attic, eager to show her sister what she had found.

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Darryl, nearly twenty years in the future, swallowed thickly as he watched the young man, who had come to be like a son to him, slip two potions in his pockets, and turn around to retrieve the spell he'd written earlier from his desk.

"Jordan," Darryl's rough voice immediately had the man's head snapping up from his work to lock eyes with his surrogate father.

"Yeah?" The older man saw Jordan mentally curse the waver in his voice. Apparently the boy thought now was a time to remain strong and not falter. He couldn't agree more.

"Are you sure you want to do this? There are others who could go back."

"It has to be me, Darryl," the blue eyes of his friend were imploring and the ex-cop could see desperation lingering behind determination. "I have to go."

"Chris won't be happy with you."

"Yeah, well Chrissy can kiss my ass. This is all for his benefit, anyway." Jordan said with a growl and a curse as he cleared the table away from the wall so he could draw the triqueta on the wall.

"He won't be happy with me either," Darryl countered, knowing he was playing dirty, but beyond the point of caring. "You know he asked me to watch out for you. I can't do that if you leave this time."

With a heavy sigh, the brunette at the wall slumped forward, the chalk in his hand stilling.

There was silence for a moment before Jordan seemed to work up the strength to speak.

"Darryl, I know this is dangerous. I know that this could very well turn out to be a suicide mission. Hell, I don't even know if Chris is still alive back there," Jordan paused here, his grip on the chalk tightening so much that Darryl thought he might crush it into dust.

"But, I think I owe it to him to tell him what's happened. He thinks she's dead, Darryl. He _needs_ to know. It could very well be the only thing that could motivate him to either get his ass in gear and get back here, or pinpoint what happened in the past and change it."

Darryl looked at the man in front of him, crossing his arms in thought. "You've been thinking about this for a while, more than you've let on."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I have." Jordan turned to face him, his chin lifting to stare down the cop rebelliously and resolutely.

A sigh.

"Alright, Jordan. But you get your ass back here in one piece—and bring that delinquent friend of yours back with you. I want both you boys back here whole and healthy so you can survive the tongue lashing I'm going to give you."

Jordan smirked and walked over to Darryl just in time to catch the bigger man in a fierce embrace, the same kind he had given Chris the day he had left for the past.

"You be careful, Jo," Darryl ordered, his voice quiet but no less demanding in his ear. "You be careful like you were taught."

"I will, Darryl. You trained me well enough," Jordan said to him with a pat on the back, and a second later that had separated and the determined boy was back to finishing the triqueta, while Darryl wiped his bright eyes.

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Piper looked at the picture incredulously, her eyes drawn to the boy that had been labeled as her son. He looked so much like Leo, there was no question.

"You found this in the office?" She asked, her voice restrained.

"Yes, under the couch." Paige replied, looking at her sister warily. "Piper?"

"I could kill that stubborn ass whitelighter of ours! How could he leave something like this out in the open for others to find? It's reckless, not to mention the exposure risk."

"Piper, look at it this way: if he hadn't left it where he did, we wouldn't have been able to help him."

"I know, I know, just let me rant for a minute!" Piper snapped, rolling her eyes and growling.

Phoebe and Paige stayed silent through it, sharing smiles and amused snorts over their eldest sister. Always the mother hen.

Paige had come back with the picture, and, even after scrying, they hadn't been able to find Chris despite the extra boost.

Piper and Paige tossed theories back and forth for a moment, while the youngest was silent. She had surprised them by saying that maybe Chris wasn't somewhere on the map.

"You really think so?" Piper had asked her.

"Makes sense. It might be why we can't locate him," Phoebe had answered with a shrug.

"Wait a minute, I have an idea," Piper had exclaimed, turning to her youngest sister. "Paige, try sensing for him. Maybe we can find him that way."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Paige had started, her brow creased and her hands up in front of her. "I'm not a strong enough whitelighter to do that."

"Maybe not normally, but you do have something of his right there," Phoebe had said, indicating the picture in her sister's hands. "Try using that to help you."

"Alright, I'll try," Paige had griped, closing her eyes with a frown.

In the end, it had worked, and the youngest Halliwell had been able to get a lock on Chris's location, though she didn't know exactly where it was.

Now they were just getting over the shock that they really did seem to know Chris in the future—provided that this was not a trick just to get them to believe him. After all that had happened, suspicion was called for.

"Okay," Piper sighed, apparently over her previous ire for their furtive man from the future. She tilted her head back, and lifting her eyes towards the ceiling. "Leo! Leo, we need you!"

They waited a moment to see his orbs, but nothing ever happened.

"LEO?"

Nothing, not even a jingle.

"Ugh, Paige, take Wyatt over to Sheila's and get her to watch him for a while. Leo's not coming and we can't take a baby on a rescue mission with us."

"Alright, but she won't like it," The half-angel said, picking the little blue eyed boy up from his playpen and settling him on her hip.

"We know, but try your best. Piper and I'll stay here and make some general vanquishing potions while you're gone. The second you get back, we're going." Phoebe said, stopping Paige once more as she tried orb out. "And, Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Please hurry. I don't know how much time Chris had left," her psychic sister pleaded, her voice softening at the last part, nearly making her half sister cry.

Paige nodded, far more serious this time as she orbed out with Wyatt in her arms.

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End.

Well, thanks for reading--finally updated!! I actually had a reviewer give me a little criticism and I'm glad they did--it gave me just the ideas I needed to break out of writer's block. Thanks!

**_REVIEW!!!!!_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Charmed_. Nada. So no suing...

Well, la-_da_! Here it is people, the long awaited chapter four of _On The Edge._ I hope it's enough to satisfy you readers till the next chapter comes out.

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_On The Edge:_ part four

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Sheila Morris stirred soup on the stove with a smile as she prepared her family's lunch.

She was cooking Darryl's favorite; broccoli cheddar, with a dash of mozzarella. She even bought some freshly baked French bread this morning to top off the home cooked meal with a bang..

Humming a small tune she'd sung to her kids when they were younger, she turned the stove off as the soup finished and left it on the burner to stay warm.

Sliding over to the overhead cabinet to her left in socks seemed completely normal to her as she got down some bowls for lunch. She didn't however have enough hands to get the cups, too.

She smiled. Normal problems like this she liked. She could handle those.

Ever since Darryl had stopped helping the sisters, their lives had gone back to normal. Darryl had regained his respectability on the force, her boys were playing sports and doing things that normal kids did, not having to worry about their dad being gone so much, and she could be here, cooking for her family on her days off. Life was grand.

That is, until the doorbell rang.

Frowning, Sheila dropped what she was doing, having not heard her husband coming down the stairs to get the door, and went to see who was there.

She had a nasty shock when she opened the door.

"Hi, Sheila," Paige greeted nervously, holding Wyatt on her hip. Her eyes were slightly squinted against the sun and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth as the woman in front of her remained silent and cold.

"Paige, what are you doing here?"

Sheila hadn't meant to have her voice come out as callous as it did, but she realized how harsh she must have sounded when the girl in front of her winced and restlessly shifted Wyatt to the other hip.

"Sheila, I hate to ask you this, because I know how much you don't like us right now, and I wouldn't unless I had another option, but we really need you to watch Wyatt for a couple of hours."

Paige seemed to deflate after her little speech, as if she had saved up a lot of tense energy to do it. Sheila didn't seem to care at the moment.

"Paige, you know how I feel about you guys right now, and here you are asking me to watch Wyatt, without so much as a forewarning?"

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry but we really need—"

"No, no I am not your solution. What you really need to do is hire your _own_ baby-sitter and stop asking _us_ to do this."

Sheila knew she was being unfair, as the sisters would never ask a random person who they didn't know to watch their magical little boy, but she wouldn't let herself care about their problem. She was frustrated with this whole situation with the sister and wished that things had never deteriorated to this point. But the reality was that it had, and she was not going to put her family at risk to rekindle a lost friendship.

"Sheila, honey, who's at the doo—"

Darryl's voice floated down the stairs and he froze on the last step as he saw Paige. His eyes narrowed when he saw Wyatt.

"Paige, are you here for the reason I think you are?" Sheila heard the edge in her husband's voice and knew he would support her decision for the safety of their family.

"Darryl, I'm really sorry," Paige began, bouncing Wyatt as he started to get fussy. Sheila's eyes softened at the care Paige took with him. "I told Sheila that I wouldn't ask you to watch him otherwise, but we're desperate. Leo won't answer and you're the only ones left that we trust to watch him."

"Paige, what's going on?" Darryl asked, his deep voice wary, but concerned nevertheless.

In Sheila's eyes, Paige seemed to hesitate a moment, before she made the decision to tell them. She had to thank her consideration for at least trying to leave them out of their problems.

"Phoebe had a promotion about Chris, and he's in trouble. We are talking pretty big trouble. We just need you to watch Wyatt for a few hours while we get the situation under control. You know we can't take him to the underworld with us, Darryl." Paige said, looking pointedly at the cop.

Sheila heard her husband sigh and saw him reaching for Wyatt.

"Darryl, no—"

"Sheila, baby, please. It's just watching Wyatt. It's not like I'm covering for them or anything." Darryl soothed, taking a giggling Wyatt in his arms while he tried to convince her without bloodshed.

Sheila sighed, deep and loud, her nostril flaring out in annoyance. "Alright, Paige, we'll watch him. Just come pick him up when you are done, okay?"

Paige seemed to melt with gratitude and thanked them profusely before orbing away. Sheila looked out and made sure none of her neighbors had seen that, and closed the front door.

She turned to glare at her husband, but her eyes drifted to the blonde-haired angel in his arms.

"Hey, baby boy, let's wee what we can get for you to eat, huh?"

Wyatt squeals at her, clapping his little hands in glee.

And just like that, her life went back to normal.

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Fire and energy balls swarmed around him as he tried to dodge them all. The barrage had taken him by complete surprise—he hadn't even sensed any one coming, let alone a small army.

Rolling across the cavern floor to take refuge behind a large boulder for event he briefest of seconds, Chris wondered how he was going to make it out of this hell. His orbing powers were still of no use, thanks to the demon, or whatever he was, from before.

A fireball suddenly struck the wall above him, showering him with rocks and sparks from the tiny explosion. He covered his head as three more followed, each getting closer to him. He'd have to make a run for it and pray he could get the upper hand in the battle before the demons did.

Before he could even move from his position from behind the suddenly crumbling rock, he found himself face to face with a grinning demon with rotting teeth, holding a very large energy ball in his open palm.

The half-angel braced himself for the attack when he suddenly found himself watching the demon go up in flames.

"Chris!"

A man appeared before him, throwing energy balls outside the field of his vision, and he could hear screams of death as demons were vanquished behind him. The brunette in front of him quickly held out a hand, calling his name and urging him to take it.

Another stream of fire flying past them awakened Chris from his daze and he stared up at the man, a name falling from his shocked lips.

"Jordan?!"

"Long time no see, Chrissy! Now get the hell up and help me!"

Chris allowed his friend to pull him up, a fireball ready in his free hand.

Jordan saw the weapon in the Halliwell's hand and whooped, a huge grin coming to his face as an energy ball came to his hand. "Alright! Let the party begin!"

Chris ducked another incoming lethal projectile and threw his own at the offending demon, smirking in satisfaction as he watched the demon go down in flames, taking another of their attackers with him.

_Two birds with one stone. Hell, yeah! _

He looked over to find Jordan, who had gotten lost in the fighting, but came to his senses in time to flip a demon over his back and doge a following swipe to the feet. The hair-raising feeling on the back of his neck had never let him down before. Waving his arms sharply, he made the demon fly into the wall and impaled him on a sharp rock in the red tinted cavern.

Shit.

While he'd turned to vanquish that demon, another had snuck up behind him, and now had his arms pinned behind his back, so he couldn't use his telekinesis. His fireballs wouldn't work in this situation, either.

Another demon came forward, a malevolent grin on his twisted face as he put a hand on Chris's chest, more towards his left shoulder.

The witch was at a loss as to what the demon was going to do until he felt a burning pain in his shoulder.

The demon was forming an energy ball in his hand, holding it to Chris's newly bared skin and letting it burn, like a slow torture.

The emerald-eyed angel tried to get loose, struggling frantically as his skin started to smolder and he thought he might vomit from the smell. The pain was so intense, an he though he might have cried out, but he couldn't have been sure.

Everything felt a little hazy.

"Chris!"

He knew he heard Jordan's voice, but before he could get his strangled voice to call out for help, everything went black.

Jordan snarled at the demon in his way and pitched an energy ball straight into his chest, before turning to the one at his side and doing the same.

He looked around for Chris, carefully keeping an eye out for the demons that kept trying to kill him.

The horrid stench of burning flesh invaded his nose and gagging never seemed so hard to fend off till now.

He knew that odor like the back of his hand, and it terrified him to know that it was not a demon vanquish he smelled.

Spotting his friend being held fast by a large demon, with another one at his front, laughing and pressing what seemed to be an energy ball against his chest, he called out, letting him know help was coming.

He ran forward, vanquishing demons in his way and dodging those that were too fast to hit. Seeing Chris struggle and cry out, a righteous fury erupted in him when the demon holding the energy ball pulled back his fist and knocked his friend out with a sucker punch to the head.

Still battling demons to get to him, he lashed out at the ones in his way, determined to get to his friend's side faster than he was. He growled when they threw Chris to the ground, and kicked him over to land on his back.

His eyes widened in horror when the demon who had been torturing him took the energy ball still in his hand and chucked it at the witch's prone body. He'd never get there in time to stop it.

Moving faster than he could ever remember moving, Jordan brought his arm back and launched his own energy ball at the one hurtling towards his friend.

Time seemed to still for a moment and he waited with baited breath to see if he had successfully saved his friend.

The energy clouds connected, merging to form a larger one—Jordan thanked God that it was his trajectory that it favored, because a second later, it had changed course and vanquished the two demons who had hurt his companion.

A sharp sting on his arm suddenly brought him reeling out of his thoughts, and he looked to his right, finding blood running down his arms in rivulets where a demon had skimmed his arms with a well placed sucker throw.

Ducking and rolling with a sudden ferocious cry, he came to kneel and let loose an assault of power, knocking many demons off their feet as they vanished in flames, their cries echoing eerily in the dimly lit cavern.

More demons were rolling in by the second, but Jordan dismissed them, crawling over to Chris as low to the ground as he could and avoiding being hit all the while.

"Chris? Chris!"

No matter what Jordan did, he couldn't wake his friend up, and the blood he was losing from the shoulder wound had Jordan a little on edge. Protecting Chris with all the strength he had, even if it meant death, was his life. He loved the half-angel like a brother and he was willing to do anything for him because he knew his friend would do the same. They'd had enough mishaps to know that they could trust each other.

_I'll protect you, Chris, you can count on me, brother._

Jordan was fierce, ready to kill any demon that came near. So much so that he forgot the pain in his own arm and weariness in his body and turned to the new wave of demons, preparing to use the last of his strength and energy to send a barrage at the ugly, dark creatures, when they suddenly started exploding.

One by one, and sometimes two by two, they were taken out, more than half of them gone in a minute.

Confused and a little wary of a possible new threat, Jordan turned his eyes to the doorway of the cavern, letting an energy ball take shape in the palm of his hand.

He let it fizzle out in shock when he saw who it was.

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TBC...

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There you are, dear readers... more soon. I have it all mapped out, but with classes it may take a little longer to update than I want, but I promise I won't leave you high and dry. 

Review please, that's how I know you want more...


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I do not own any of the _Charmed _characters, except my original character Jordan. He's all mine.

I've been really irregular about updating, but I had a creative moment. I contemplated waiting another week before uploading, just so y'all wouldn't get too overexcited, but I couldn't stand the thought of holding out on you dear readers. So here is chapter five.

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**On the Edge: Chapter five**

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Fuck.

After all that—convincing Darryl to let him go on the premise that he'd lay low, trying to keep his presence a secret, and his powers diluted—the Holy Trinity of Good Witches just _had_ to bust in, guns blazing.

There was no way around it now. Jordan just hoped that Chris would have a good plan to talk them out of this one, or the young man feared that he'd soon be on the receiving end of one of those vanquishing potions flying through the air like missiles.

The sisters were throwing potion after potion, Phoebe and Paige armed like an arsenal, while Piper blew them up in groups with her sharp flicks of her hands.

Perhaps the sisters being here wasn't such a bad thing after all. More firepower was good, but more eyes were better. Easier to stay alive if there are others watching out for you.

A pang of remorse hit him when he realized that they weren't going be watching out for a stranger that could very well have been one of the demons that was trying to kill their whitelighter.

Unexpectedly, however, the Triad of Sister witches moved towards the two, moving in a protective half-circle around their whitelighter. Piper cast a glance at Jordan, but apparently deemed him not as dangerous as the threat in front of them, for she turned her gaze back to the dwindling wall of fiery orbs that were careening towards them.

A sigh of relief escaped him and he slumped down by Chris, bone weary, and closed his eyes a moment, thanking the powers that be that the sisters were still alive at this point in time.

A sandy shuffling came his way, and assumed the Charmed Ones were walking towards him. He had to admit they worked fast when properly motivated.

He opened his eyes to thank them for coming and saving the two future dwellers, but couldn't quite get the words out.

He felt speaking would be an immediate threat to his health.

Piper stood in the middle of the threesome, her hands ready to blow him up should he move too quickly. Paige and Phoebe stood at her sides, each armed with a potion and a nasty glare.

"Get away from him if you want to live."

That was all the warning they would give him, it seemed. He got to his feet slowly, making sure to keep his hands visible to each of them.

"Relax, I'm not a threat—"

"Like hell you aren't. Move over that way and I might not blow you up." Piper's voice was steely and she left no room for argument, as her head titled to the left sharply.

"Okay, okay, easy," he surrendered, his hands held in the air in a placating gesture.

Rationalizing that Chris was just as safe with his family as he was with him, Jordan moved a safe distance away and let the sisters rush to the whitelighter like he knew they would.

Phoebe kept a potion trained on him at all times, while her other hand held Paige's arm in anticipation of making a fast get away.

"Okay, Paige, let's go," Jordan heard Piper command.

The group dematerialized in a brilliant shower of coalescing shimmers.

Jordan had to gape at their audacity, leaving him in the middle of a underground demonic streetfight.

He didn't have to brood long.

In a flurry of arms, legs, and blue orbs, the escaping group of witches was thrown back to the floor with a barrage of thumps and grunts, and one well said,

"What the _hell?_"

Paige's voice was furious, and no small amount of confusion showed on her beautifully angry face.

"Paige, what happened? Why can't we leave?" Piper hissed, bringing her arm up to block the heat of a fireball that came too close to her head for comfort. She flicked the same hand out and was rewarded with the painful scream of a dying demon.

"I don't know, I don't _know_!" The youngest Halliwell sputtered, clearly bewildered and out of sorts, as she dragged Chris behind a boulder and took cover for herself.

"You," Phoebe spat, glaring at the young man hiding across from them, the demon that had been found next to Chris. "Demon, what did you do?" Her voice was venomous, and she noted the other flinch with pride.

"No, not me," he defended, holding his hands up as before to gesture at himself. He hunkered lower behind the large crag-like rock as an energy ball skimmed the air over his head. "I didn't do any of this. I got here just before you did. I have no fucking idea why you can't orb out of here," he said, eyes wide and incredulous at the glares he was getting.

Piper was about to open her mouth and curse him for using such language with her sister, when the man in question suddenly jumped up and hurled his own crackling defense at the warlocks and upper level demons still assaulting them with their own vicious onslaught of power, and dove to the sisters' side of refuge.

"Wait," he cried, holding his hands up in defense when Phoebe took aim with a potion.

The eldest witch, taking her eyes away from her seething younger sister, suddenly noticed the wound still trickling blood on his bicep, and began to wonder just who this guy was.

"Listen to me," he was panting by now, a combination of what Piper thought to be exhaustion and anxiety. "It's obvious you can't—" he ducked a low flying energy ball nearly too late. "—get out of here by orbing—"

"We can manage," Piper spat, her suspicion overruling her slight concern fro his wellbeing.

"Just let me help!" He shouted desperately, raising his voice over an explosion behind him.

"We don't need you! You're a demon," Phoebe screamed back at him.

The boulder behind the other arguer suddenly shattered in a fit of dust and debris, and ex-chef heard him curse, his arms flying up to cover his neck and head.

"I don't have time for this!" he growled, and latched onto Phoebe and Paige, who already had a hold of Chris.

"Hey!" Piper screeched, eyes going wide. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

The guy just rumbled deep in his throat and shoved Phoebe towards Paige, linking their arms with no small force. He held onto the columnist's other arm and snatched Piper's hand, ignoring her outraged look as he lifted his face to hers and looked her intensely in the eyes.

"I'm saving your life."

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Wails and high-pitched keening was not normal for baby Wyatt; he was normally such a sweet, quiet toddler, who got along with most any situation.

Now was not one of those times.

He was inconsolable at the moment—had been for about an hour. Sheila was bouncing him on her hip and trying to get him to take the pacifier that had been in his silent mouth before. Darryl had watched her try singing to him, changing him, and even feeding him, but nothing was working.

"Darryl," Sheila's worried voice had the cop looking up from his task of putting away the baby food Wyatt did seem to want to eat. "I can't figure out what's wrong. He's not calming down," she sighed and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. The baby's face was pink from screaming so long. The experienced mother looked back up at her husband. "He was fine just a little while ago."

She took to bouncing him some more, walking around the island in the kitchen a few more times.

"Honey, I don't know. I've never seen him like this before. Usually when he starts crying, he's clutching that teddy bear of his—" Darryl was cut off by his over-excited wife.

"That's it! Where's his teddy? Doesn't he always have it with him when he's here?" Sheila asked, cradling the back of the baby's curly head and making small shushing noises.

"Yeah, where's his bag, I haven't seen it," Darryl said, looking around the kitchen after putting the food in the fridge. There was plenty more for the boy—they always kept some supplies at their home for him.

"Darryl," his wife's tone of voice had him meeting her eyes warily. "Paige never brought a bag. She just brought him and left. The only thing he's got is his pacifier, but only 'cause he had it in his mouth when he came."

The Lieutenant looked at his wife for a moment, his hand absent mindedly drifting to pet the screaming Halliwell child on the back. "Something's going on here—we need to talk to the girls." His voice was heavy when he spoke.

Sheila looked away, down at the floor, but eventually nodded. She hefted the baby into her arms again, into a better position and opened her mouth, "What about Wyatt? He needs stuff. Now."

"I know, I know," Darryl sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, moving to lean against the counter after taking Wyatt from his wife to give her a break. "The little guy'll just end up orbing over there on his own if we don't get it. We'll just have to drive to their house and—"

"Dad!"

"Daddy!"

"Soccer game!" His two sons cheered in unison as they came barreling through the kitchen door. DJ paused at the sight of the baby crying in his arms.

"What's wrong with, Wyatt?" he asked, resting the soccer ball on his jersey clad hip. His younger brother, Michael, came to stand next to him, looking up at his parents with pouty eyes.

"We're gonna miss the game aren't we?" the boy dropped his bag where he stood and sighed petulantly.

"No sweetie," Sheila cooed, walking towards her son to give him a warm caress through his hair. Darryl was never so thankful for her than at times like these. "Wyatt's just a little fussy. We need to go pick up something from his house before we head to the game, okay?"

The Morris' youngest boy nodded, and took his previously discarded bag from his mother.

DJ brought the ball in front of him, fiddling with it as he asked his parents, "We won't be late?"

"Promise," Darryl said, smiling at his son, before trying to calm Wyatt down once more.

"Okay," Sheila said, clapping her hands once. "Everybody get your stuff, and get in the car—we got ourselves a game to win! Woo!"

"Moooom," DJ larked, turning and leaving with a smile, his brother behind him.

The cop watched his wife turn to him, and couldn't help but bestow a chaste kiss on her smiling lips.

"I love you, you know that right?" Darryl thanked God that Wyatt had quieted down a bit during the whole conversation, but cringed when he started up again, now that the conversation had died down.

Sheila smiled at him.

"You got that right, Chief," she smirked, taking Wyatt out of her husband's arms and walking out of the kitchen with the persnickety baby. "What'ca think, baby boy? What do you say we go get your teddy bear, Huh? Yeah…"

Darryl listened to his wife cooing at the child all the way out the kitchen with a disbelieving grin on his face when he heard the child giggle a little.

"The car seat's still in the backseat, right?" He heard her call back.

"Yeah!" He yelled back at her, grabbing his keys off the counter and lumbering off towards the door.

The Halliwell's were going to be the death of him.

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TBC...

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Well, that's all for now. You've had two updates in the span of about a week, so now I'm going to hole myself away and write some more mindblowing chapters (grins)

Gracias por los reviews.

Por favor, review para mi sanidad mental.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Discalimer**: Sadly, I do not own _Charmed_, or any of it's characters. But Jordy Boy is mine!!

**Summary**: Something's bothering Chris, something big. When a friend from the future shows up, will it be enough to help?

Mwahaha, my muse has returned!!! Oh goody!!

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The Sixth Installment of _On_ _the_ _Edge_

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The drive to the Halliwell's was quiet, a content silence in the kid's eyes, despite Wyatt's sparse crying. They were too excited about the soccer gameto really notice. Adults tend to have a better perception of things as a whole, and Darryl and Sheila Morris were no exception to that rule. Their children may not have noticed the tension in the front seat of the mini van, but the lieutenant and his wife were no strangers to the wall between them.

On one hand, it was unavoidable that they go to the manner, to retrieve the necessary items for the infant Halliwell, and give his little lungs a rest.

On the other, though, neither of them wanted to pick up the old baggage that they always accumulated when involved with the three sisters. It wasn't fair to them or their kids.

When they pulled up in front of the driveway, they hadn't really known what to expect, but seeing both cars parked before the house, and all the blinds open was surprising.

"You think they're here?"

Sheila's voice in his ear prompted Darryl to push gently on the break and look into her eyes. He saw fear and worry, but most of all, he could see the instinct to protect clearly on her face. If something was happening inside, she would do her damnedest to protect her children.

Darryl turned the car and parked aside the curb, feeling the wheel scrape against the cement.

"It's possible," he replied, putting the car in park and turning off the ignition before taking out the keys. "But I doubt it. They wouldn't leave the blinds wide open if they knew something was going to happen at the house."

Sheila sighed tensely, but said nothing as she turned around to tend to Wyatt, who had started whining again.

"Mom?"

"Yeah, sweetie?" she asked, stroking the little blonde head of a cherub, while making shushing noises. Wyatt swiveled his head and gazed up at her with innocent little eyes, his whining ceasing for the moment.

"Can we come inside, too? I miss Aunt Piper," DJ said, imploring her with the puppy dog eyes that no mother can resist.

"And Auntie Paige and Phoebe," Michael added, leaning over in his seat to be seen around his brother.

Sheila hesitated a moment, glancing at her husband, who was making his way around the hood of the car to the sidewalk.

"Honey, I don't think they're home, so we're just gonna wait in the car while Daddy gets some things for Wyatt, ok?" she replied in a smooth voice that relied none of her uncertainty. Thankfully the weather was somewhat cool so they could do without the air conditioner just fine for a while.

Darryl appeared around the passenger side of the car, and leaned over through the open window to peck his wife on the lips, ignoring the "yucky's" of his boys. They'd get a taste for women as they got older, he knew and grinned.

"I'll be back in a minute, honey," He said, catching his keys in the air and pocketing them with a little jingle, making Wyatt giggle. He smile and turned, walking up the driveway, and trying not to look as apprehensive as he felt. He didn't want to worry Sheila. The boys would have no idea that this house could be so dangerous, but his wife knew the Halliwell sisters, and knew what they did with their life.

Darryl reached the porch after a slight jaunt and found the spare key hidden behind the porch light. Inserting the key into the lock, a tad happy that the girls had finally decided to start locking their door per his request, he turned the knob and entered the manor cautiously.

He would be careful. They had found out the hard way just how perilous it could be.

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Sheila smiled at her boys as she watched them playing with Wyatt in the rearview mirror. They were doing a good job at keeping the toddler occupied, and so she felt no need to disturb them. As long the little Halliwell wasn't crying, she was content to let them do whatever they wanted.

It was strange. Wyatt had never been a fussy baby, not until recently. Even the first time he had been taken over to her house to be watched over while the girls did what they do best, he was more curious than anything. He'd taken to crawling around the thankfully clean floors, inspecting everything that moved, and everything that didn't.

He was a naturally inquisitive child, unafraid of the unknown and not held back by any fears of monsters under the bed. Of course, he was too young to really know that monsters under the bed were something to be afraid of, but that was the whole point. He never seemed frightened by anything, or even the least bit unhappy in unfamiliar surroundings. He quickly made them his own.

Sheila's house was anything but alien to his blue eyes by now, after all the times he been over there in the short span of his life so far. It was disconcerting to her that he should be so inconsolable with her that nothing could be done to calm him.

She just hoped it had nothing to do with the sisters.

"Momma, when's Daddy coming back? He's been gone for so long!" Michael hummed, spreading his arms as if to illustrate his point. He got that from his father that was for sure.

"Sweetie, Daddy's only been gone for five minutes. You'll have to give him a little longer before—"

The words of placation died in her throat as she watched her car light up with a blue glow, and Wyatt disappear in a swirl of orbs.

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Darryl was approximately halfway up the bottom landing of the stairs, coming back down from Wyatt's room with a full baby bag slung over his shoulder, when he heard the most god-awful crash and a roaring of feminine curses. A whole lot of cursing.

"What in the world?" he breathed, barely able to hope that the girls hadn't brought their demon hunting home with them.

"Sheila, please stay in the car with the boys," Darryl whispered to the air, hoping his wife had not heard that noise, and if she did, that she had enough presence of mind to stay in the car. Making his way more cautiously up the stairs this time, even going so far as to reach for his gun that was at his hip.

The steps creaked eerily in the sudden quiet as Darryl tried to sneak up the ancient stairs. He silently thanked God that Wyatt was outside in the car where he could make as much fuss as he wanted. That child would not have given him a very good element of surprise had he been here.

Darryl dropped the bag at the top of the first set of stairs, making sure to set it down lightly. He stood still, listening for a moment, before creeping towards the second staircase, and slinking up the carpeted steps. He knew instinctively that what he'd heard had come from the attic.

"…are you?!"

The seasoned cop jerked his attention forward as Piper's angry voice carried over the silence, the faded end of the question interrupting the tense atmosphere the cop was feeling.Padding up the stairs to the highest level of the manor, he let his training take effect. Holding his gun steady in his hands, muzzle aimed at the floorboards, he crept along the wall of the hallway, every nerve in his body screaming that something was about to go wrong.

"…ask you again, _who_are you?"

Piper's voice was clearer this time, much quieter, but somehow far more venomous and deadly. Darryl could here her as he snuck up on the attic door from around the corner of the hall. The door was cracked open a little, and he turned and made sure that no one else was in the hallway with him. He had a strange feeling that he had not been alone for a moment there.

Remembering that his family was in the car outside, and assured that they would be safer there if something were to happen as he entered the room, the LAPD officer turned back to the entryway, spying the back of one of the sisters—Paige it looked like, judging from the posture with her hands on her hips. The youngest Halliwell always stood like that.

Eyeing Piper farther in the room, he was surprised to see her hands raised as if she was going to blow something up. What startled him more was the young man he saw crouching a little ways away, his hand held up in the same gesture, though in a more surrendered manner. He looked to be talking to her, but his mouth never made any sound as it moved. He saw the man glance down, and following his gaze, Darryl spotted Chris, out cold on the attic floor. There was a little blood on his shoulder, and a small laceration on his temple.

Then it hit him. The other man was talking to the whitelighter, apparently trying to rouse him. Maybe they knew each other?

"_Leo_—"

The guy suddenly left the floor, cutting Piper's call short, and flying to his feet in what looked to be a threatening manner, a sharp remark on the tip of his tongue.

Darryl banged the door open with his foot, effectively cutting off anything he had been about to say, and trained his gun on the intruder, just as Piper had with her hands. The young man looked momentarily spooked, like a deer caught in the headlights of a large Mac truck. But he quickly schooled his handsome features and his face became impassive and hard to read. His eyes locked onto Darryl's, a hauntingly familiar sense of déjà vu associated with those silver blue eyes. They seemed to look at him with such familiarity, yet it was detached in some way, and it was confusing the cop to no end.

"Darryl?"

Phoebe's shocked voice filtered somewhere through his thoughts and he turned his head to see her to the left and behind him a little. There were a few potions in her hand, and Darryl guessed what she had been doing.

"What are you doing here?" Piper hadn't meant for her voice to come out so sharp and angry, but she was past her tolerance level for uninvited guests today, and though Darryl was a friend, he shouldn't have been here.

"We came back to the manor to get Wyatt's bag, and I heard you upstairs," he said shortly, his voice confident as he looked the young man right in the eyes while speaking to the eldest Halliwell.

"We?"

Paige's incredulous voice floated around the room, as if daring Darryl to say what she thought he meant.

Darryl remained silent, feeling as though he didn't have to explain his family plans to the girls. He was frustrated, and believed he had done what was best for his family considering the situation. He didn't want the sisters telling him he'd made the wrong decision.

"Darryl, you should take your family and go back home. It's not safe," Phoebe said, moving slightly towards the black man and motioning him towards the hall.

"Hell no, Phoebe. Are you out of your mind? I'm not leaving you here alone with this guy." Darryl was protesting quite adamantly, though he knew he'd not be of much help should something supernatural go down. He supposed it was more the principle of the thing. Not backing down in the presence of real danger. Not losing face again as he had a few months ago. He would not abandon the sisters again—of that he was certain.

Phoebe must have recognized his mentality, or felt something through her empathy, because she did not try to tell him again. She simply nodded her head and left him to his peace with a small smile.

"Darryl,"

The cop felt a light touch to his back, and smelled his wife's shampoo before he realized she's come up behind him, which was probably the only thing that kept him from turning on her. He had taught himself to recognize her in case a situation like this ever arose.

She squeezed his shoulder, whispering in his ear, "Darryl, I'm sorry, but we had to come in. Wyatt orbed our of his car seat. I just guessed that he came into the manor somewhere."

Darryl kept his gun and gaze trained on the people in the room before, even as he listened to his wife voice in his ear. He saw Phoebe's shocked look and Paige's concerned face when they saw Sheila appear behind their cop friend. Piper only threw an irritated glance in his direction, and then focused her glare back onto the man in front of her.

"Sheila," Darryl whispered as the girls turned their attention back to the young man before them, and bombarded him with demands to know who he was and why he was here. Piper looked ready to blow him up without even finding any of this out.

"Are the kids still in the car?"

Sheila sighed, her warm breath tickling the back of his neck.

"No, I'm sorry, Darryl, but I couldn't leave them out there by themselves. They're waiting downstairs in the sitting room."

Darryl was silent as he absorbed this information, and knew it was the best course of action right now, even with the threat of demon home invasion.

Sheila gripped his shoulder harder, and let out a harsh whisper, "They're really scared right now, Darryl," his wife paused to draw in a breath and he thought she might not continue. "They saw Wyatt orb."

The cop closed his eyes momentarily, his gun drooping the slightest inch as he let out a pained sigh. This would not be a good day. He would have to explain some things to his kids today, and then convince them everything was still the same as it had been yesterday when things had not been orbing away in front of their eyes.

"This is all fine and dandy, ladies, but would you please just let me explain?"

The young man's voice suddenly broke the unspoken silence, and Darryl saw Piper's hands snapped back into position, this time aiming a little higher from where they had slacked when he was still kneeling. She looked ready to kill him in a moment's notice if the irritation lining her lips and ticking her eyebrow was any indication.

"Why should we? You're a demon."

Piper spat out the obvious with such distaste that the man actually winced.

"Yes, you seem to be quite insistent about reminding me of that fact.

Oh. That was a good thing to know. His gun would do nothing to help the sisters now, but he still kept it level and aimed, ready to defend his wife should something happen.

It was then that Darryl noticed the blood leaking down his arm, and the slight waver in his otherwise proud stance.

"I've told you before, I'm a friend. You have nothing to fear from me."

"Leo!!" Piper called again, more agitation seeping into her voice than before.

He wasn't coming.

"What do you need him for? All he ever does is cause trouble," The demon scoffed, his fingers curling into trembling fists.

Piper sent him a glare, raising her hands to blow him up, when Paige suddenly called out, "Crystals! Circle!"

The pyrite crystal orbed from their respective box to form a small circled around the young man, effectively blocking Piper from vanquishing him and from him doing anything rash.

"Paige!" Piper whirled, fire in her eyes.

"What, we might as well get some answers out of him before we blow him up. He might know something about the attack on Chris."

"What, you think I had something to do with that?" The man's eyebrows climbed, even as his voice became incredulous. "You girls are even more dense that the history books say."

"Shut up, you." Piper snarled at him, even as she knelt down and moved the crystal in to give him a light zap. The smartass demon gave a surprised cry of shock and pain, breathing harshly when she removed the crystal.

"Tell us about the attack on Chris," Phoebe ordered, coming forward, nearly forgetting that Sheila and her husband were still present. Darryl had not so much as wavered in his aim on the demon, and he remained tense and ready.

"I told you before," he began, hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath. "I don't know anything. I wasn't the one who set that up—"

A short yelp cut him off and he crackled with electricity for several seconds before Piper deemed it so to be removed.

"You know something about it, and we better find out soon if you don't want to be sent to the waste land."

Paige looked over at the attic doorway, hearing a slight squeak. She had forgotten that Sheila was standing there. Darryl could handle the interrogation, but she feared that his tender hearted wife would not be happy seeing this. The youngest sister turned to Piper, calling her name in an effort to placate her. She was about to tell her to stop when Piper spoke.

"You said something about history books before," she zeroed in on his eyes, scrutinizing him from the top to bottom of his soul. "Where, or rather _when_ are you from?" Receiving no forthcoming answers, and regarded with a stony facial expression that betrayed no answers, Piper grew impatient again, and placed the stone closer again, this time for far much longer.

Some where in all the screaming, Darryl noticed movement from behind the crystal cage. Chris was waking up.

Before he could mention this to Piper, Chris had bolted into a half sitting position. He yelled out to Piper frantically, his eyes wide and pained.

"Piper, _stop_!"

When the eldest charmed one showed no intention of doing so, Chris surged to his feet and kicked out with his foot, knocking the whining, glowing stone away from the rest and effectively breaking the circle. Jordan stopped screaming and fell limply into Chris, smoke rising off his clothes. They fell to the floor together in a heap, lying there for a moment, breathing harshly.

Everything was still for the shortest of moments.

Jordan suddenly rolled over and crawled to his knees, looking at Chris as if he'd never seen him before.

Chris smiled from his position on his back and grinned tiredly up at his friend.

"Hey, Jordan."

The demon, Jordan, seemed to sag with something akin to relief, and he pulled Chris up to him by the back of his neck, embracing him fiercely. Chris held on just as tightly, his face disappearing in the other man's shoulder, oblivious to the gaping and suspicious audience filling the room.

Jordan pulled back and sighed, shortly, a disbelieving breath escaping him.

"You're hurt." Chris's voice was saddened and bitter.

"You're worse than me, man," Jordan smirked.

"Thanks for saving me, but how the hell did you get here?" Chris asked, his tone curious and just a little bit accusatory.

"Same way you did, sort of…" Jordan trailed off, his eyes sweeping over his friend's form.

"You have no idea how damn good it is to see you alive, Chrissy."

"Yeah, Jo, I'm glad you're here."

They shared a smile and something seemed to pass between them then. A kind of contentment.

"Chris, what the hell is going on?!"

Said whitelighter went pale, whipped his head towards the Charmed Ones, and opened his mouth. No sound came out.

"Demon!"

Chris and Jordan surged to their feet, backs to the sisters. Darryl and his wife crowded towards the Halliwell's as well, detective Morris's gun disappearing into its holster.

A large flaming ball of fire was suddenly streaming through the air towards them, a grim looking and surprisingly humanoid demon smirking behind its path.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Charmed, the show or the characters. Jordan is mine, though.

Please forgive me for being so bad about updating—but I wanted the next few chapters to be really good, and I'm working on some other things to post for you lovely readers.

I hope you like this newest installation. It's my baby. Sorry it's a little on the short side. I do better with one-shots, I know.

Enjoy.

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The fireball burst into a bright shower of sparks and skin-licking heat, fizzling out just before Piper's outstretched spider-webbed hands. Her arms were extended in front of her, alert and ready. Tense features and a narrow glare spoke volumes on just how tired she was of demonic interruptions at this point in her day.

Jordan ducked a little to the side as another fireball whipped past overhead, the distinct crackling alerting his instincts—seemingly molded from life-long survival. Jostling his time-hopping friend roughly as he moved, he tried to steady the angel as best he could while slightly off balance himself. A small cry of surprise and pain slipped through Chris' lips before Jordan nearly felt his determination to ignore the burning discomfort in his shoulder. Now would not be the time to alert the demon to possible weak links in the group. He'd surely use that to his vindictive advantage.

Except, there were no more hurdling demonic orbs of fire.

In fact, there was no more demon.

The shocked silence that radiated from the group as their vision cleared was so thick, tangible as the smoke was choking. That attack, if it could even be called one, had been rather out of place; in the experience of the Sisters, odd was normal for them, but suspicious behavior like that rang the alarm bells like a dinner gong.

Piper took a hesitant step forward, palms still poised, ready to leap on the offensive should another demon spring up from the shadow of the departed one. Jordan remembered how Chris used to talk about her so adoringly, that her family was everything to her—nothing would ever hurt them if she had anything to say about it.

All eyes swept like hawk wings over the vast demonic emptiness of antique crowed the attic. There was nothing to suggest that they had just been attacked by a demon—no scorch mark, no ringing scream of vanquish, no fiery combustion. Not even a dead innocent. If it weren't for the fact that the rest of the charmed family members were picking their jaws up off the floor, as well, he might have gone for the hallucinating bit.

Jordan looked around at the rest of them, still wary and watchful. There was a terrible foreboding feeling in the air, one her didn't like.

"Darryl," He heard the black woman whisper—Sheila, he realized—watching her lean in close, presumably incase the demon was still actively pursuing them. Personally, Jordan wished she would have stayed quiet through the whole ordeal, and let the resident exerts handle the rest of the situation.  He didn't even like the fact that Darryl was here, in the face of danger, but he felt better knowing the man could take care of himself. Jordan couldn't say the same about Sheila.

Upon closer inspection of her by his senses, he deduced she was worried. Not for herself it seemed—her tone was more informative than scared.

He quickly tried to think of what the future Darryl had told him about his late wife, when he suddenly made the connection—two of his closest friends, sons of Darryl Morris, also sons of Sheila. It was an alien thought, as she had long since passed away on the streets of San Francisco by the time he had met the hardened cop. As he studied her, it seemed the presence of danger had raised her maternal hackles, and he had a feeling she hadn't come to this House by herself. She must have brought her children with her; they had to be pretty young in this time, the oldest no more than eight. He sensed them. She must have been aware of the fact that her sons were down two floors below them, alone with no supervision and no protection. A fleeting thought of the whereabouts of Wyatt panged across his consciousness as well. She whispered again, her tone plaintive,"The boys."

Her husband turned to her after one last official sweep over the room and nodded, backing out of the attic still on full alert. He shared a glance with Paige, obviously leaving his wife in the protection of the youngest sister, and Jordan heard him trot cautiously downstairs before he lost all sense of the man's whereabouts. There was too much magic in this house.

Phoebe harrumphed, stepping out of the huddle of protection around the remaining Morris, and spoke with a confused lilt clearly coloring her words.

"Uh, guys, I'm not sensing the demon itself, but…uh," the middle sister took a breath, trying to find the right words to describe what he knew from experience she could only feel in a non-tangible manner at best. "Maybe…something _of_ his?" she turned to her older sister, who had crossed her arms by now, listening to the columnist talk. "Piper, is that possible?"

"Yes," Jordan interrupted, seemingly not the least bit shameful of his abrupt way of cutting off the Halliwell matriarch. His eyes were suddenly on the floor, though, intent on something resting atop the creaky, lightly dusted floorboards.

"What is it?" Chris asked softly, and out of the corner of his eye, Jordan saw his friend holding his arm tightly against his side as he soldiered to his booted feet. Their eyes met and Jordan directed his gaze to the wooden panels of the attic floor, knowing Chris spotted the small, rough-looking cloth sack, no larger that his fist.

By now, the rest of the witchy company was clued in to what the boys had found, and approached warily. Jordan, being the decisive person he was, deemed himself the gofer and crept over to it, bending down to scoop it into his hand.

"Shit!"

He leapt back like he'd been bitten and cradled his hand, which now seemed to be giving off a small skyward drifting stream of smoke. He waved it around lightly, before tucking it back against his chest and looking at Chris, mouthing a small curse once more.

"It's got a Power Lock on it, dude."

Chris nodded, green eyes analyzing as he let go of his own arm and stepped forward, "Yeah, I noticed. You okay?"

Still looking sourly at the innocent little sack taking up space on the ground near his feet, Jordan shook his head, muttering, "Just be careful when you open it, Chris."

The young Resistance leader moved forward, but Piper's hand shot out and jerked him to a halt.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing? You'll get burned, too, Chris," she said, nearly shouting at what she obviously thought was a stupid move on his part, something to add to his list of Whitelighter screw-ups. And boy, could Jordan tell she thought he was a screw-up as their whitelighter. Her tone of voice said it all. "Let one of us handle it."

The half-breed frowned with a little sarcasm in his eyes, "What? And have you get the same result? Trust me, I can do this safely."

Chris ignored Paige's indignant snort, and Phoebe's reluctantly worried eyes on his back as he focused his attention on the mysterious package once again. Jordan heard Sheila make a strangled warning noise in the back of her throat, and had to fight his lips from trying to smile. The more and more he saw of her, the more he felt like he'd missed out on her mothering and caring spirit. The future really could use more people like her.

Chris raised a pale, slender hand, fingers lax, but outstretched and slowly called upon his telekinesis, fusing it with his thoughts. Jordan knew the routine, even had experienced it for a time. The bag stirred, raising itself from the floor, steadily rising into the air until it was eye level with the young prodigy. He twisted his wrist, hand changing positions, and the bag swiveled, dropping to the floor with the mute rustling sound of cloth to reveal what was inside.

Chris stumbled back a step, the breath knocked out of him as the object wavered in the air, before the connection was severed altogether and the item fell from its hovering existence.

The crest hit the floor with a small clatter, its silver chain sliding across the floor with a dull metallic dragging before coming to rest. A streak of blood marred the old attic floor in the wake of the shining cord. Fresh blood.

"…Jordan…what…?"

The voice was so small, and so heart-breakingly desperate, that even Piper turned to look at Chris, to watch his ashen face and shaky movements.

The boy was pale, and trembling, his wide green eyes glued to the object on the floor.

"Chris," Jordan said softly, approaching his friend and taking him by the shoulders. He blocked the other's view of the past resting in a bloody puddle on the floor, and forced him to look into his eyes.

"That's what I came back to tell you," the demon offered gently, his otherworldly eyes turning guilty. "I didn't want you to find out like this," he said earnestly, finally succeeding in garnering the attention of the emerald gaze in front of him.

"She's…alive?" The question was tentative, as if testing the truth and sound of that statement after so much time of believing the opposite, the terrible. Chris laid his hands upon the junction of Jordan's hands and arms, looking at the man intently, face searching, needing desperately to know if this was true.

"Yes," he kept his voice soft, his bangs fluttering a little as he nodded with the words, those sweet words he knew the angel had been denying himself till now.

Jordan's heart ached.

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I hope you enjoyed this. Hopefully, not everyone has deserted this story. Just know that Reviews keep me going. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any characters of _Charmed_, simply the plot of my story. And Jordan--he is mine.

My Dear Readers,

So sorry to have left you in the dark for so long. I wanted to perfect this chapter for you, but my muse left me for a while, as did my motivation. I have since regained both, and hopefully this update will give you reason to forgive my delay, or at the very least, lift your spirits.

I am still working on those others (many others) to post, both chapters of this story and new things you haven't seen before. I hope to post many of them soon, but University academia has been hectic. I shall try my best to do better for all of you, though.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, and reviews are always welcome, even if you have a bone to pick with me. : )

Have fun.

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Chapter Eight of _On the Edge_:

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"She's alive, Chris," Jordan murmured, looking into his friend's eyes. This news was big—life altering in the strangest and most wonderful way possible. Someone once thought dead risen like Lazarus?

"Oh," the half-witch breathed, a dazed look coming over him as his mind retreated to think over this new information, and possibly reprimand himself for not knowing this when he left the future last, Wyatt's attack singeing the cloth on his back. He'd left her there, thinking her gone. "Oh, God," he swallowed convulsively, mouth suddenly dry as he realized the true extent of what had transpired in his ignorant absence.

"No!" Jordan growled suddenly. He shook his friend hard, completely ignoring Piper's raised hackles, despite the fact that he knew she could blow him to pieces anytime. "Don't you do that to yourself, Chris, you had no idea! For all you knew, she was dead. Wyatt's a bastard, we know that, but the Resistance forgets sometimes how two-faced he can be. Who knew the guy would heal her after you left?"

Chris's eyes were glassy, tears gathering in the corners as he appeared to crush his hopes of ever forgiving himself. His pained expression was a pang through Sheila's heart, and her hand rose to cover her mouth, eyes starting to sting as she watched the scene in the shadows. She didn't know who they were speaking of, what had happened, or who was involved, but she knew Chris was hurting, and as a mother, that hurt her, too.

The brunette's eyes were on the floor, his head pressing into Jordan's chest as though he could push all the bad thoughts away with the man's help, and a gasp, closer to a sob, reluctantly escaped his lips. He squeezed his eyes, a tear slipping to the floor. He seemed to be only with Jordan—no indication of the sisters' presence, nor Sheila's, passed across his pained face.

Jordan sighed sadly, releasing Chris's shoulders, and drawing the boy to him in a hug, "We don't know whether she's being kept in the past or the future, but Wyatt's not so vindictive as to taunt you with false bait. He wants to really hurt you," he said, wincing at the words. He lowered his voice so only Chris would hear and spoke, "But you're still his brother, his blood, and he knows that."

Jordan's words lingered in the silence of the attic for a few moments, Chris's small sniffling sounds muffled in the demon's shirt. The two stood hugging, the younger curled in the comforting embrace of the other.

"Chris—" Piper's hesitant words were cut off by the dark glare Jordan sent her way. He was warning her, protecting him. She bristled, but otherwise stayed silent. She reluctantly acknowledged that she was growing a bit of a soft spot for the young misguided whitelighter, and she realized now was not a good time to reprimand him for not telling her and her sister' about the events in the future a few weeks ago.

"Piper?"

The eldest Halliwell sister turned at the sound of Sheila's voice, catching the eyes of her two sisters on the way. She saw Chris and Jordan separate out of the corner of her eye, the former's green eyes looking slightly red.

"Sheila, I'm so sorry you had to see that. I know you don't—"

The ex-chef was cut off when Sheila stepped closer to her, laying a hand on her arm to forestall and explanation.

"Piper, I know, but that's not what I'm talking about," The detective's wife looked worried, but dutiful, as if she knew she had to do or say whatever it was she had on her mind. She glanced at Phoebe and Paige, and her eyes even swept over the two boys behind the oldest sister, before she met her gaze with a teary sort of apology. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I have no idea where Wyatt is."

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"WHAT?!"

Darryl was so startled by the loud, screeching out burst from upstairs that he nearly dropped his youngest son just as he picked him up to settle the boy on his hip. He should have realized that his boys would be clingy after seeing Wyatt orb. It was weird enough when he first saw Leo do it, but a baby? That would mess with anyone's mind.

Michael's eyes rose to the ceiling, as though if he looked, he might be able to see through it and know what was happening upstairs.

The detective felt a tug on his pants, and looked to down to meet the gaze of his older son.

"Dad," DJ asked, looking slightly wary. He'd seen a few things today that definitely made things about the Halliwell's seem crazy and confusing, but strangely more clear. "What happened up there?"

"I don't know, son," Darryl replied, walking towards the stairs. He placed his free hand on DJ's head and gave him a comforting smile. "Let's go find mom, okay? She'll want to know you two are safe."

They went up the two flights of stairs, DJ seeming to need prompting every few steps, and heard muffled shouting as they ascended. Only when they got closer to the attic door did it become clear to Darryl what was happening.

"…stay clam, Phoebe?! My baby is out there who-knows-where, there are demons on the loose, and Leo's not answering! How can I possibly stay calm?!"

Piper's angry voice dropped suddenly, her rage and worry ringing in every ear.

"Piper, it's possible he sensed danger and orbed away without being told to," Chris said with reason, most likely hoping to placate the irate mother.

Sheila already looked like she would break down from the witch's words, even after hugging her boys tightly as her husband brought them over. She questioned both of them, making sure they were okay, kissing them both, and now keeping them in the circle of her arms as she focused back on the happenings in the room.

Darryl kept his hand on the small of his wife's back, hoping to bring a little comfort to her.

"Chris, I don't need to hear this from you. I still don't trust you or that friend of yours. I need to find my son—"

"And you will, Piper," Chris raised his hands in a soothing gesture, wincing only a little at the pull of his shoulder wound. "He might come if you call him, to let him know it's safe."

Piper seemed to consider this for a moment, before she raised her eyes to the ceiling, calling, "Wyatt, sweetie, Mommy's really starting to worry. It's safe now, honey, so you need to come home now, okay?"

There was a pregnant pause, as everyone waited for something happen.

Nothing. No orbs, no jingles. Nothing.

Piper sighed and turned away to look at the floor when a sudden blue glow washed over the faces of everyone present. Phoebe and Paige were expectant, Piper suddenly hopeful, Darryl and Sheila wary, Michael and DJ wide-eyed, while Chris and Jordan remained unaffected, if not slightly resentful.

The blue orbs grew to a size larger than a toddler, momentarily alarming, before Leo materialized in his golden Elder robes, a slight frown on his face, and blue-eyed blonde toddler nestled in his arms.

"Wyatt!" Piper immediately snatched her baby boy from his father, hugging him close and smoothing his hair. "Sweetie, Mommy was so worried about you. Oh, please don't ever do that again."

Leo looked confused as he took in the Morris's, flicked his gaze over Chris and Jordan's slightly battered forms, and finally rested his gaze on the his former charges in front of him, pinning special attention on his ex-wife.

"Piper, what is going on?"

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The large group had moved to the first floor, congregating in the living room. Piper, while Wyatt was being played with by his two loving aunts, made some snacks, including some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for DJ and Michael, and some juice for her toddler. She kept a suspicious eye on the two future boys who were huddled off to one side of the group, sitting on the floor, obviously not particularly welcome by the Leo or the sisters.

After thirsts had been quenched, and sandwiches eaten, the children dozed against their parents, too tired to be worried about what they had seen just yet, while the adults tried to figure out exactly what had happened.

"I let him stay up there with me for a while," Leo said as he looked briefly at his son before returning his attention to the sisters. "I thought you told him to orb up there to get away from danger. And when I didn't hear you calling for me to bring him back, I decided to spend some time with him while I could."

Leo's features were pinched with an accepting sadness, but he reined it in quite well. "I was just about to bring him back down when he orbed us both back down to the attic."

"Why didn't you come down sooner?" Paige asked, looking up from where she was stroking Wyatt's blonde curls. "We needed you a while ago."

"You didn't call me," Leo said, raising an eyebrow.

"But we did call you, Leo," Phoebe pressed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"Several times," Piper added softly.

The angel looked utterly perplexed that he hadn't heard his charge's call at all.

"There's got be a reason for that," Chris suddenly spoke up, getting to his feet to pace. "There has to be something we're missing about all this."

Jordan looked up from his brooding to gaze at the group, fixing Leo with a frown. "It takes a lot of power to block a whitelighter, especially an Elder, from hearing their charge's call. That's the reason it's difficult to hear summons when the sisters are in the Underworld, and you're up here. Too much demonic energy. It's like a preventive cloud of resistance."

"How do you know about that, kid?" Paige asked shrewdly, glancing his way with a sharp look.

Jordan didn't seem to take offense, and merely shrugged noncommittally, "History books and experience, witch."

The youngest Charmed One ordinarily would have balked at that tone and title, but her experience in Social Work had honed her skills of observation and insight, and she didn't sense any malice behind the word. If anything, there was a hint of affection. He was simply calling her by what she was, what she wanted to be. She supposed she was okay with that.

Piper, however, was offended enough for the both of them. "What your mouth, demon, or I'll blow you back to the future without your family jewels."

The fire wielding demon seemed to be more amused than anything, but simply tipped his head in acquiescence.

"Jo," Chris intoned softly, garnering the others' attention as he stopped pacing to face them. "Even _that_ barrier is comprised of the demonic energies of all the demons in the Underworld at any given time. It's only strong because of the sheer number of demons and warlocks gathered in one area. So what would be powerful enough to single-handedly block the bond between Whitelighter and Charge?"

Jordan looked a little wary as he spoke after a moment of silence, "Or who?" He seemed to be stating rather than speculating.

"What?" Chris snapped his head to his friend on the floor. "You—" he licked his suddenly dry lips. "You think he's here? In the past?"

Jordan shook his head, noting that the young whitelighter barely relaxed, if at all, to the supposed reassurance. "No, last time I saw him he was still being his evil, bastard self in our time."

"Hey," Piper interjected sharply, raising her one hand in a gesture of potential explosion. "Watch what you say about my son, demon."

"If only you knew, Piper," Jordan sighed, a sad but contrite air around him.

Before the oldest sister could growl, Chris spoke again, agitation clear in his voice.

"That demon that attacked us in the attic couldn't have been the one. He didn't seem powerful enough—I didn't sense that kind of strength from him."

"Uh-uh," the other resident demon stood, albeit with a slight wince as Leo had seen fit to leave their wounds alone for the time being, not particularly trusting of either at the moment. "He didn't. Wasn't him. I didn't recognize him anyway, so I know he can't be a high up. There's go to be something we're missing."

There was a distinct length of time in which the sisters thought, Leo meditated, Darryl and his family spoke quietly, and the other two boys stared off into space.

Chris interrupted the silence.

"You think he sent Cole?"

A glance. A beat.

"Cole?!"

Jordan looked down for a moment, worrying his lips. His slightly bright eyes met Chris's suspiciously wet ones as a spoke, "Chris, he must have. Cole's the only one with that kind of power who Wyatt could even partially trust. But, he's not, I mean, he can't be—"

"Evil, he's evil!" Piper nearly shouted, a vicious quality to her voice. "That son of a bitch has double-crossed us at every turn, and he works with my son in the future? How do we know Cole isn't the one that turned him?"

"No!" Chris barked, a defiance in his tone and a clear trust in his eyes. "Cole is not like that anymore. He doesn't have any allegiance to the source or to Wyatt—he's our inside man, and he'd never betray us."

"How can you put such blind faith in him, Chris?" Phoebe asked, getting up from her seat, a look of confusing and wariness on her pretty face. "He twists everything, goes behind your back, puts people in danger," she paused slightly, realizing her voice was too loud.

"No, you're the ones who don't understand," Jordan said with a tired sigh, and rising anger in his eyes. "Cole has never been completely evil—he and Belthezar were two completely separate beings, only brought together by his consciousness. And he never wanted to be the Source. Never. He saved you all by what he did back then with the hollow and you just condemned him as being power hungry. You don't understand what _that_ kind of power _does_ to you. It hardens you, and breaks you at the same time until you bend to its will. He knew that and tried to fight it, but before he could win, you fucking banished him to a world in Limbo." Jordan was breathing heavily now, fists clenched by his side, and sisters were wondering if there was some sort of connection between their past demon and this one to get such a reaction.

"He's saved our lives more than I can count," the young demon continued, as Chris glanced over at him. "And I'll be damned if you tarnish his good name in front of me, Charmed Ones."

"Jo," Chris intoned softly, and Jordan looked at him before following his friend's line of sight, and extinguishing the flames rising from his hands. He ran a hand through his hair and quietly excused himself, leaving the room with heavy steps.

"You guys really shouldn't have said that," Chris said softly, looking after his friend's disappearing form till he could no longer see him. He returned his gaze to the room to meet a myriad of shocked, angry, and confused looks. He sighed, one slightly hitched as he sat slowly onto the floor again.

"What the hell are you talking about, Chris? How can we take anything you say anymore as truth if you know and trust Cole in the future?" Paige asked, hands crossed in front of her chest.

"You were never much for believing me in the first place, if I remember correctly," he replied, looking up at her with an unreadable expression in his tired eyes.

Paige had to admit the truth to that statement, and couldn't quite hide the quirk of her lips. Chris didn't see it though, as his gaze lowered back to the wooden floor.

"Tell us now, then, Chris," Leo prompted, voice soft and encouraging. He may not trust the young whitelighter who was friends with a demon, but he knew they all needed to hear some answers. They had more trust for him before this all happened, and if they could clear the air, maybe things would fix themselves and fall back into place. "Why did Jordan react like that?"

Chris hesitated for a good few moments, seeming to have an inner conflict with himself about how much he should reveal, if any at all. He clenched his fist, the one resting across one of his knees as he sat Indian style, and looked up at the faces around him, trying to block out the distrust he saw, and worse, the disgust.

"Jordan," he began, closing his eyes and opening again as he seems to make his decision. "He's like Cole's son in a way, I suppose."

If the girls were expecting something else, they were thoroughly shocked by this new revelation. Phoebe even sat down again, all the breath leaving her.

"What?"

"When Jordan was younger, he was in with a bad crowd, part of Wyatt's forces. The group was slightly eccentric and usually overdid the orders they were given. Instead of just killing their targets, they slaughtered them." Chris grimaced again, a flash of pain streaking across his face before it was gone just as quickly and the neutral visage was replaced. "Jordan wasn't really one to participate, but at the same time, he tried not to draw attention to himself, so he…he always made the deaths quick and painless for the victims."

"He's a killer? It's bad enough you let a demon into my house, but a trained murderer?!" Piper seemed livid, but didn't shake off the hand Leo placed on her shoulder.

"Just listen, would you?" Chris said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This was back when The Resistance was just forming, and as many people we could get were being recruited. Cole found out about Jordan, since he'd been planted in Wyatt's territory from the beginning, and very carefully staged his death and brought him to me. Except staged might be the wrong word." The young whitelighter took a deep breath, and continued shakily. "Wyatt found out about Jordan betrayal, and tried to kill him, but I was in the way, and took the brunt of the attack. Cole tried to help us, but his undercover position prevented him from doing anything. God, it was awful—"

"How did you survive, then?" Darryl asked, leaning forward.

Chris sighed again, loath to reveal such delicate information to the Sisters just yet, but he didn't see a way out of it. He already told them there were very few Whitelighters in his time, anyway. "I did a spell to swap my powers with Jordan, so he could heal me."

"A spell? You did a spell?" Piper asked, slightly taken aback. "Whitelighters can't do spells."

Chris looker her in the eye, wishing more than anything he could tell her the whole truth. "I'm not exactly your typical whitelighter, Piper."

Jordan chose that moment to traipse back into the room, hands in his pockets. Chris didn't continue.

The demon made no indication that he's heard anything that Chris had just told the witches, but the young whitelighter knew Jordan suspected. He gave the fire-wielder a questioning glance, and the other tipped his head slightly, making everything okay.

"I still don't get something," Phoebe said, looking at the two. "Why would Cole give a random demon of the present something so meaningful to you," she pointed at Chris, "to hurt you like that if he's as good as you say he is? Why would he intentionally give you news like that, well, like _that_?"

Chris looked a little unsure as to the answer, as opened his mouth to speak.

"Because, I didn't."

The whole room seemed to freeze as the heads of witches, whitelighters, demons, and mortals turned to face the deep voice.

Cole, looking no older than he did years ago, spoke directly to Chris and Jordan without ceremony, and a great amount of familiarity.

"And we have a problem."

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TBC...

So, I hope you liked this, if not, that's alright, too. In the next chapter, I hope to tie up a few loose ends, but also unravel several more. Keep checking in.

Please Review. I like feedback.


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